


(Too Much to) Ask

by euhemeria



Series: And, In Sign of Ancient Love, Their Plighted Hands They Join [93]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Loving Marriage, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28132731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euhemeria/pseuds/euhemeria
Summary: Angela leans in, looks down towards Fareeha’s lips, and up again to make eye contact, says,sotto voce, “And if I want to?”Or,Fareeha is surprised, albeit pleasantly so, when her wife decides to try something new.
Relationships: Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Series: And, In Sign of Ancient Love, Their Plighted Hands They Join [93]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/508281
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	(Too Much to) Ask

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sealfarts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sealfarts/gifts).



> "world hard and cold... wife soft and warm" --skitch
> 
> me finishing this last night but then being like... nah im gonna wait til tmrw to post bc im too lazy to figure out what to tag this... WELL,

Routine, Fareeha thinks, is a good thing, is comforting. Some people, she knows, bore more easily than she, decide that a thing they once enjoyed, when done too many times, is no longer as fun, as interesting—and Fareeha can empathize with that, to a degree, is a thrill seeker in some areas of her life, has the sort of career, the sort of vehicle, the sort of hobbies which lend themselves towards a certain level of risk—but Fareeha likes to have some constants in her life, likes to know, at the end of the day, that the home she is returning to will be as she expects.

For a long time, Fareeha did not know that she could like such a thing, thought routine anathema to her, but now she has come to realize what a comfort it can be, in a life as chaotic as hers, to have something steady, to have a touchstone. In her work, surprises are so often a danger, and so it is a relief, she has come to realize, to have one place where she does not have to worry about them, one place where she does not have to think about what the right move is, what is expected of her. It is a relief to have _Angela._

In many ways, Angela is Fareeha’s opposite, does not seek out adventure in any part of her life, hates the parts of their job which involve the adrenaline rush of a fight. Before they started to live together, she cooked herself the same fourteen dinners on a two week rotation—freely admits to this—and when she buys new clothes, she tries to ensure that they are as close as possible to the ones she has worn too thin to continue wearing. 

They are not opposites, exactly, but they are unalike, in ways that are, Fareeha thinks, good. To Fareeha’s life, Angela brings a steadiness she once lacked, a comfort, a shelter from the chaos of their work, their world, and to Angela, Fareeha brings new experiences, variety, a zest for life. They are well-matched, and Fareeha is content in the fact that their life together is a fairly routine one, considers that to be a benefit, in fact. 

So it surprises her then, when one day, during their usual Wednesday lunch in their quarters together, Angela is wearing decidedly less than usual, changed into a bathrobe after her post-drills shower, rather than into professional clothes. It is surprising, but Fareeha does not say anything, because what would she ask? _Why aren_ _’t you wearing clothes?_ is not the sort of question she thinks one ought to ask their wife, particularly as she and Angela are both the type who, sometimes, do not bother to get dressed for a while after showering. 

(For someone who has very strong feelings about how appropriate it is to kiss someone in public, Angela is incredibly unbothered by casual nudity, her own or anyone else’s, and does not see how this seems somewhat of a contradiction to Fareeha.)

For now, anyway, there is no reason to comment on Angela’s clothing choice, or lack thereof, because although it is a deviation from their routine, it is hardly anything serious. Fareeha does not comment, either, when Angela eats her food far quicker than usual, does not mull over it during a long conversation, and quickly cleans both their plates when they are done, rather than leaving them on the coffee table and lingering. 

Usually they sit and talk a while, after lunch, and they have at least a forty minutes left in their lunchbreak, so Fareeha is surprised, feels a bit rushed. Is that her signal to leave? Generally, they both return to work after the dishes are done, and it is not completely unheard of for Angela to go back early, if she has something she needs to get back to. But, still, this is an unusual situation, and so Fareeha, rather than making an assumption, because she has learned, by now, not to try and guess at her wife’s motivation in things, asks, “Should I go?” right as Angela drops the bathrobe, revealing that she is wearing only a new, and _very_ titillating, lingerie set.

“Oh,” Fareeha says, somewhat lamely, because she certainly was not expecting this. “I take it you don’t want me to go, then?”

“Really, Fareeha?” Angela asks, “That’s all?”

“You caught me off-guard!” Fareeha says, in her own defense. “And I’m out of practice. It’s usually me who tries to talk you into a quickie.”

Before Fareeha can add anything else, can say that really, she does think that Angela looks breathtaking, and she is very eager to find out if the slits in the brassiere over her nipples are a theme that repeats on the matching panties, Angela interrupts her.

“Exactly!” says she. “I never do this. So stop making it so hard!”

“Sorry,” Fareeha says, standing to go kiss Angela, “I didn’t mean to—”

“ _Sit down_ ,” Angela interrupts again, “And let me do this, before I lose my nerve.” A pause, in which Fareeha sits, and says nothing, and then Angela, with much less confidence, adds, “Unless you don’t want to…?”

“No!” Fareeha says, “No, I definitely want to, I’m just used to, you know…” she clears her throat, “Anyway, I definitely want you to seduce me. So go ahead!” Fareeha makes a sweeping gesture with her arms, “Seduce me!”

Now it is Fareeha’s turn to be miffed, as Angela starts laughing. At first, she tries to stifle it, but soon she is halfway bent over, and Fareeha cannot help but join in at the absurdity of all of this. 

(When their roles are reversed, and Angela is counting on Fareeha to initiate, she is quite good at seduction, good at subtly suggesting that she would be open, if Fareeha wanted to pursue something, and normally Fareeha is very good at the business of seduction, at saying and doing the right things. Here, however, like this, they are both hopelessly lost. For two people who are so able to avoid falling into patterns with their actual sex acts, who are both equally interested in giving and receiving, one would think they would be good at this, the prelude to sex, would be able to apply that same flexibility here, but evidently that is quite beyond them.)

Eventually, their laughter subsides, for a moment, but then Angela comes and flops next to Fareeha on the couch, and that sets Fareeha off laughing again, at how ridiculous the situation is, how even when her wife is dressed like that, they cannot manage to break the habit of how they normally start things. “I’m sorry,” Fareeha says, collecting herself, “It shouldn’t be this funny, but we are _so_ bad at this.”

“We aren’t bad at—” Angela pauses, corrects, “Well, maybe a little. But I maintain that it’s inexperience, and also that, usually, when you take your clothes off, I don’t just say ‘ _Oh._ ’”

“I did not say it like that!” Fareeha protests, “I was definitely interested!” A look, from Angela, and Fareeha adds, “Alright, so I’m not making this easy on you, but I wasn’t expecting it, in my defense.”

“Of course you weren’t,” Angela says, “I was trying to be spontaneous.”

“Angela,” Fareeha takes one of her wife’s hands in her own, and says, in complete seriousness, “We are _not_ spontaneous.”

“I’m noticing,” Angela says dryly. “But for the record, I do know how to seduce you. I seduce you all the time! I just don’t… ask to have sex. Which I was _trying_ to rip off the metaphorical bandage for.”

Fareeha turns so that her body is facing Angela, says, “Alright then, why don’t you start with that?”

“Honestly,” Angela answers, “I think that—well, I’m not so worried anymore. That was mildly humiliating, but at least I did finally directly ask you to have sex with me.”

Fareeha hates to split hairs but, “Actually, you didn’t?”

“I definitely communicated to you that I intended to have sex with you!” Angela protests, “You just weren’t very receptive.”

“Well, okay, you demonstrated that you did, but you, with much more subtlety, do that pretty often. You still haven’t actually _said_ anything.”

(It does not matter to Fareeha, really, but this is the sort of thing Angela tends to draw distinctions about, for herself. Up until the conversation in which Angela first mentioned it, Fareeha never realized that her wife never, by her own definition, initiated sex, always thought of Angela as being an equal participant in everything, but according to the Angela of that conversation, she has never directly stated anything, never asked, or suggested, never said, in as many words, that she wants them to have sex. Other means of communicating her desires, however, she has certainly never shied away from, in Fareeha’s opinion.)

Narrowing her eyes, Angela accuses, “You just want to hear me tell you how much I want to have sex with you. You’re fishing for compliments.”

“I’m not!” Fareeha says, “You’re the one who pointed out that you never say you want to have sex.”

(If Angela were anyone else, Fareeha suggest that she _just say it,_ but she knows her wife well, by now, and knows, too, the reason for Angela’s reluctance. She is not going to pressure Angela, therefore, into saying something that she has been taught shame for, is not going to expect her to just overcome the ways in which she was taught to think about sex, her role in it. That would be too much to ask of anyone.)

A deep sigh, from Angela, then, at which point she agrees that, “You might be right, but I do want to…” She stops, again, “I want to be the sort of person who can ask that, because you’re…” Fareeha waits out the silence, does not want to rush anything. “You’re beautiful, and I love you, and I want you to be with someone who—I don’t want you to feel like you’re not wanted.”

“ _Angela_ ,” Fareeha moves to cup her wife’s cheek, “I know.” She kisses Angela then, seriously, “So stop worrying about it.”

“I want to make sure,” Angela tells her, “I don’t want you to ever feel that I don’t—that I don’t care about you.”

Clearly, conversation is not going to resolve this, so Fareeha moves back, a bit, shifts her weight so that she is no longer in Angela’s space, and Angela will have to move into hers, “Then just show me,” Fareeha tells her. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Then, Angela leans in, looks down towards Fareeha’s lips, and up again before making eye contact, says, _sotto voce_ , “And if I want to?”

Before Fareeha can answer, Angela is kissing her, softly at first, and then deeper, deeper, until Fareeha tilts her head, trying to get a better angle. Then, Angela breaks off, says, “You’re gorgeous,” before she moves lower on Fareeha’s body, goes to kiss her neck, sucks a mark into it, while her hands work at the buttons on Fareeha’s shirt.

Against Fareeha’s newly exposed skin, the air of the room is cold, and Angela’s mouth is so, so hot. “You’re thoughtful,” Angela says, scraping her teeth over the skin of Fareeha’s collarbone in the way that she likes, hands still moving further downwards, fighting briefly with the stubborn zipper on Fareeha’s pants.

For a moment, Fareeha thinks to help, but she knows that Angela _wants_ to do everything, right now, knows that Angela is trying to prove a point, here, about making Fareeha feel appreciated, and so she does her best to just relax into the feeling, not to think about things too much and to enjoy what Angela is telling her, enjoy the fact that Angela knows just where Fareeha likes to be touched.

“You’re caring,” says Angela, just before her now free hands pull Fareeha’s bra out of the way, and she brings her mouth back up, again, to Fareeha’s lips, “And, you need to lie back for me, please.”

Eagerly, Fareeha does so, and is glad that Angela remembered to ask her, rather than just pushing her back—they have both banged their heads on the armrests of this couch more than once. Passive as she is trying to be, as much she intends to let Angela take her time with this, Fareeha cannot resist arching her back so that her chest juts out just so, reminds Angela where she left off.

There is a bit of a shuffle, for a moment, as Angela repositions herself above Fareeha on the narrow couch, one knee between Fareeha’s legs, and the other leg crammed between Fareeha’s outer thigh and the couch back, but they manage it, and once she seems certain that they are not going to fall, Angela brings her lips down to Fareeha’s breasts, and hovering just far enough above one nipple that Fareeha can feel her breath with every word, shivers against Angela saying, “You’re passionate.”

Some part of Fareeha is touched, by the fact that in lieu of saying she wants to have sex with her, Angela is instead listing the reasons why she feels that way, but the rest of Fareeha is focused on the fact that Angela has moved such that her knee is squarely against Fareeha’s crotch, and now, if she rocks her hips at just the right angle, she can get some much needed pressure.

When she does so, she can feel Angela’s smile against her skin, before Angela removes her mouth and adds, “You’re just a touch impatient,” before she brings her forearm up next to Fareeha’s head, leans down to kiss her again on the mouth. Well, Fareeha cannot deny that, does not try to, as she brings her own hands up to Angela’s hips to steady her.

Still, after a moment Angela breaks a kiss and adds, “In the best way, of course,” before she kisses Fareeha again, and her free hand pushes down into Fareeha’s underwear, moves to trace little circles around her clit.

It is not enough, of course, at the same time as what Angela is saying to her is so much, all at once—not the content of her words, exactly, but the intent behind them, the depth of the feeling, the warmth of her voice. Always, Fareeha knows she is loved, knows she is cherished, but still, knowing that Angela is trying, like this, to communicate something which is difficult to say, knowing that she is trying to hard to say something so little, and is instead saying so, so much more, it is nearly overwhelming.

If Angela had said it, in the way that she never does, _I want to have sex with you_ , that would have been one thing, would have been just that, those words, but what she is saying, here, instead, is that she never wants Fareeha to doubt that she is worthy of being wanted, of being loved, is spelling out all the reasons for which Fareeha deserves a kind of love that Angela cannot always give her. Had Fareeha the words for it, she would tell Angela that this matters far more than someone asking for sex, makes her feel more wanted than anything else could, but instead, she stays silent, or mostly so, absorbed in just feeling, for the time being.

She feels loved, of course, and wanted, feels desired and desirable, and that is all well and good, all important, but increasingly what she is feeling is the way her pulse races, the way, when she rocks down against Angela, Angela moves too, increases the pressure of the two fingers she has against Fareeha’s clit, the way that, when she gasps against Angela’s mouth, Angela smiles against her.

Before any of this, Fareeha knew already that she was wanted— _is_ wanted—but it is nice, to be so reminded, nice when Angela moves her mouth to whisper little praises in her ear, nice when she thinks about the weight of Angela on top of her, holding her down here, keeping her in this moment, even as her emotions almost, _almost_ pull her away, nice when Angela can tell, from the sounds she is making, what the right amount of pressure is, against her, the right angle. Principally, it is nice to be seen, and known, and so, so loved, nice to know that Angela is doing everything she can to remove something she thought might have been cause for insecurity, going out of her way to solve a problem that did not yet exist, because she did not want, for a moment for Fareeha to feel unappreciated, unwanted, unloved.

Angela may not be able to say everything she wants, but she certainly is able to do enough for Fareeha, who can feel the pressure of an orgasm building, arches up towards Angela as much as she can, tosses her head to the side so Angela can suck at the pulse point just behind her jaw, and she herself can gasp in air, cool on her face, unlike the rest of her which is burning, burning, burning.

“You’re wanted,” Angela says, and then, “I want,” a tremor in her voice, matching the way Fareha’s body is shaking, right now, so close, so _close_ to something. If can just, can just, can just—

“I want _this_ ,” Angela says, and they both know, then, that it is not what she wanted to say here, but that does not matter to Fareeha, hardly registers as Angela’s fingers roll her clit just right and everything else just fades away.

Fareeha shudders with the orgasm, shakes with it, and with the feeling both, releasing all the emotion of the moment with the tension of her body, feels a single tear escape her, before some of the warmth fades and she is there, again, in Angela’s arms, where she belongs.

“Well,” Fareeha says, after a moment to catch her breath. “You were right. You _definitely_ know how to seduce me.”

(There are a thousand other things she could have said there, she knows, gentler, sweeter, but she knows, too, that right now, Angela will not want that, is likely feeling emotional herself, over everything said, and left unsaid, and will do best with a joke to release her own tension.)

A hum of agreement, before Angela brings a kiss down to Fareeha’s lips, a quick peck, says, “I told you as much.”

“You did,” Fareeha agrees. A lull, and then, a thought occurs to Fareeha, “Since we’re definitely late by now, I don’t suppose you’d let me get a better look at what you’re wearing?”

They are creatures of habit, both of them, have a routine that they love, that they keep to, that is a comfort to them, but sometimes—sometimes, it can be good, to try to do something different.

**Author's Note:**

> fareeha amari deserves everything. the end!
> 
> also angela does have a very good reason for having hangups abt certain things around sex but the fic thats detailed in is in wip purgatory so Whoops. one day itll be clear
> 
> & completely unrelated but the whole quarantine thing is messing w my ability to write smut bc i cant just call someone up like "babe come over i need to double check that this position im describing is comfortable long term"


End file.
